***This is part one of a two-part story, but it's only really split because I found it easier to proof in (slightly) smaller pieces. Plus, there's a large time gap that seemed to be a good place to stop. The second part is already mostly done, I promise; and, although this chapter would really be 'T', the fic itself is rated higher for a reason.***

"Oh, she looks so pretty! I adore weddings, Nero!"

Kyrie beamed up at her boyfriend, innocent excitement shining in her eyes as she finally turned away from the bride and groom stepping out of the church. Nero tried his best to return the joyful expression, but the closest he could come was an unsure, tight smile.

He was certain that she was hinting. She'd been making similar comments ever since a week or two after all that crap with the Saviour; not to mention how hopeful her eyes became at the sight of a beautiful bride. She wanted Nero to propose.

But he just couldn't bring himself to do it, and with every not-so-subtle hint she dropped, the guilt he felt increased. She didn't deserve this...him.

Nero had already run through every excuse in his mind as to why he couldn't marry her. They were too young; their emotions were still too messed up from the mass-scale demon attack on Fortuna; they didn't have the money to make a proper home for themselves.

All of those were true; but they were obstacles that could easily be overcome. There was another, far more binding reason why Nero couldn't commit his life to Kyrie; a reason he could barely admit in the privacy of his own head.

He didn't want to marry the pretty redhead. It was that straightforward: he felt no urge to make her his, and to give himself over to her in turn. Rather, a steadily-growing part of his mind was urging him to find another…someone that he loved with all the passion he could possibly muster.

Oh, he did love Kyrie, and he would do anything to protect her. He'd almost given his life for her, after all, and he'd happily do it again in an instant. But he just wasn't in love with her…and he couldn't marry the girl who felt more like his sister than his lover.

That was also the reason why he and Kyrie had never progressed past gentle kisses. Well…Kyrie might have been holding back because Fortuna's social etiquette demanded chastity from unmarried couples; but Nero had never felt bound by the expectations of society.

Quite frankly, he felt fully prepared to fuck whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He just…hadn't yet found anyone that he did want.

"When do you think it will be our turn, Nero?"

The part-demon's eyes widened, and he began to stutter out an answer. She was getting more and more forward with her hints, and Nero wasn't sure how much more he could take before he told her the truth.

Luckily, before he could say the wrong thing and break his poor girlfriend's heart, Nero's right arm began to glow and pulse. Head whipping around, he tried to find the source of the evil energy his demonic limb was sensing.

"Kyrie, go home. Now. There's a demon on the loose, and I don't want you to get hurt." Trying to detach her from his left arm as gently as he could, Nero prodded the girl in the right direction before drawing Blue Rose and beginning to run towards the demon energy.

He vaguely heard Kyrie calling something from behind him, but he didn't pause in his stride. One demon could easily become ten if it wasn't taken care of immediately; and although battles had become significantly fewer since the Order had been disbanded and restructured, a stray Scarecrow or Mephisto still popped up occasionally.

Plus, they had the most wonderful knack for appearing right when Nero was in the middle of a serious conversation.

Within five minutes, the lone Scarecrow was atmospheric dust and Nero was wondering just how long he could milk this one before going to meet Kyrie.

Sighing, he slumped back against a tree, wiping at his forehead and wincing when a little demon juice came off on his fingers.

He couldn't go back right now. He couldn't face any more talk about weddings, or marriage, or even the goddamned future. What he needed was to talk to someone…someone who wasn't Kyrie.

But although Fortuna looked to him for demon extermination, no one actually talked to the kid with the possessed arm. Sure, they talked about him, but there was just too much fear now that they knew what he was hiding behind the sling.

Besides, in a city as small as this, everyone knew what everyone else was saying. If he told a single person that he couldn't marry Kyrie, she would know before the day was out.

He needed someone outside Fortuna, which then narrowed his choices down until only two people remained: Gl…Trish, and Dante.

He didn't know how to get onto the blonde woman, and she probably wouldn't be much help anyway. That left…Dante.

Truthfully, Nero would probably be better talking into an unplugged phone than trying to have a proper conversation with the older demon hunter. But he liked to know that someone was listening when he vented, and he'd managed to hunt down the phone number of Devil May Cry…for purely professional reasons, of course.

It was worth a shot, right? Even being laughed at by Dante was better than facing more wedding talk.

Pulling himself upright, Nero finally holstered Blue Rose and began to wander towards the nearest phone. He had shit to get off his chest, and Dante was going to listen whether he liked it or not.

"DANTE!"

The white-haired hunter sighed, waiting for the front door of his office to burst open. Slouched back in his chair with his feet on the desk, he made sure to lift his stick book to completely cover his face.

He wasn't even looking at the thing, but Lady hated it when she saw dirty magazines sitting around Devil May Cry. And Dante could never resist an opportunity to rile her further.

That explained his current situation: sitting around, getting ready for the argument he knew was coming. Sure, he could've taken more care in making sure that the client's house stayed in one piece; but it was just more fun to dick around a bit, trash a few things, and then leave Lady to deal with the fallout.

He might have lost out a little on the money front from it, but there was nothing quite like messing with the female hunter.

Right on cue, the doors slammed open and the enraged scream sounded again. "DANTE!"

Not moving his magazine, Dante smirked where Lady couldn't see. "Fancy seein' you here, babe."

"Oh, no! Don't you 'babe' me, you filthy little slack-ass. What the Hell did you do yesterday?"

Dante kept his tone bored, hiding the smile he just couldn't hold back. "Let's see…ordered a pizza, slept a while, jacked off…"

He punctuated the last words with a slight shake of the magazine, and wasn't at all surprised when it was ripped from his hands, the pages tearing away in a flutter of naked women.

"You know what I mean! Why is a client telling me to pay for the great gaping hole in his front room?"

"Because he doesn't understand that demons couldn't give a shit how nice his crappy little home is?"

"No! Because you're a complete idiot who can't take five extra seconds to do things the clean way! You're nearly thirty years old, and yet you're even less mature than you were when we met, I swear!"

Dante just smirked up at Lady, resting his hands behind his head. She was positively fuming; even worse than usual.

This was fun.

"If you knew the answer, why bother asking me? As you can see, I'm kinda busy at the moment."

The bullet that lodged itself in his shoulder wasn't unexpected, but it still hurt like Hell. Wincing, Dante dug his fingers into the wound, pulling out the blood-covered lead and flicking it away. His flesh immediately began to knit itself together, and in just a few seconds only a hole in his zippered shirt remained.

He was glad that he wasn't wearing his jacket; it was a bitch trying to convince Trish to mend the red leather whenever he trashed it…which was often.

"Don't fuck with me. Next time, unless you want to di-…"

Lady's rant was cut short when the old-fashioned phone sitting by Dante's feet began to ring. Holding a finger up to Lady in order to make her pause and actually draw breath, Dante snapped the heel of his boot firmly against the desk, making the phone's receiver flip neatly into his outstretched hand.

"I still got it," Dante drawled, winking at the flushed, angry woman in front of him before lifting the phone to his ear.

"Devil May Cry, where we don't guarantee the safety of your possessions." For once, the hunter was actually happy to take the call. If this took long enough, Lady might get bored and wander off. It was a long shot, but although pissing the woman off and watching her scream was fun, pissing her off and getting away scot-free was even better.

"…Dante?" The quiet, male voice made the white-haired man pause. He knew this one…but it just wasn't coming to him.

"The one and only."

"It's…Nero." Dante's eyes widened; it'd been months since he'd left the demon-kid in Fortuna, and he hadn't actually expected to hear from the guy ever again. If he was calling the shop, had his city been overrun by demons again?

"Oh, hey, kid! How's life in the slow lane? Still with that bangin' chick…uh…whatsername? Kira? Kyla? Kylie?" Dante knew perfectly well that Nero's girlfriend was named Kyrie; but the kid was almost as easy- and fun- to ruffle as Lady.

This time, though, Dante was surprised to find that Nero barely changed his tone from nervously worried.

"Her name is Kyrie. And that's kinda why I rang…I need to talk to you."

"What? You after a sex ed lesson? At your age?" He knew it was a bad idea; and yet he still said it. Dante just didn't know when to keep his comments to himself.

There was a drawn-out sigh from the younger man, and a moment of silence. "You know what? This was a bad idea. See y-…"

"Wait, wait wait wait. Don't go gettin' all prissy on me, kid. What d'ya need to know?" Dante could see that Lady was nowhere near leaving just yet. She actually seemed to be getting more murderous by the second, so he had no intentions of letting the call end.

"Well…it's about me and Kyrie. She wants to…" Dante zoned out on Nero's explanation as a great idea dawned on him: he could use this to get away from Lady's bitching and get a holiday out of it. A mischievous smile started to break out on his face.

"What's that? You don't wanna talk about it over the phone? You want me to come to Fortuna so we can talk properly? I dunno…I'm pretty busy…" Cutting straight over whatever Nero had been saying, Dante looked up at Lady and shrugged as if to say, 'Kids. What can you do?'

She didn't look amused in the slightest.

"…Huh? What the crap are you on about? Dante, are you even listening to me?" The answer to the second question was fairly obvious, the hunter thought. Nero didn't have to sound so confused.

"Urgent, you reckon? Well, if you're gonna beg me like that, I can't say no to a punk kid like you, can I? I'll be in Fortuna by tomorrow."

"You're not listening, are you. But are you actually planning on just rocking up here again?" Now Nero was getting it.

"No, I can't be there any earlier than tomorrow. I'll see you then, kid." Dante didn't bother to wait for an answer, throwing the receiver so that it landed perfectly in its cradle. Standing, he grabbed his coat from a hook on the wall, slipping it on as he contemplated the display of weapons positioned behind his desk.

"Dante, I'm not finished with you! You can't just run off whenever the Hell you feel like it!"

Lady was, once again, ignored as Dante tried to make a decision. Shrugging, he decided to just run with the usual: Rebellion, Ebony and Ivory. Strapping them to their positions on his body, he turned to face Lady, who was preparing yet another little speech.

Before she could start yelling again, though, Dante held up his hand and cut her off. "Don't answer the phone, don't answer the door, don't eat my food and don't screw with my jukebox. Other than that, have fun."

In a swirl of red leather he was gone, leaving the female hunter to splutter in fury. As he jumped on his motorbike, engine revving in an unnecessary display of power, he faintly heard her scream his name one more time.

Laughing, he roared onto the road in the direction of Fortuna.

The sun had finally set completely, and Nero couldn't help but feel the slightest bit disappointed. Dante had possibly said that he was going to turn up today, after the incredibly bizarre conversation Nero had been through with him; and yet, there had been no sign of him.

Nero had spent most of the day avoiding Kyrie, knowing that she would be hurt by it and yet unable to face her and lie. He needed to talk to someone, and maybe even have a decent sparring session, but first he needed to find out for sure whether Dante was going to be a helpful asshole, or just an asshole full stop.

He should probably go home and just call the man again. And then hope like Hell that he wasn't on crack this time.

Standing up from the table he'd taken at Kyrie's least-favourite restaurant- he'd been hungry, but was still in hiding- Nero left a little money on the table and made sure his glowstick of an arm was covered.

He wouldn't have to worry about sticking to the shadows now that it was dark, but his demonic limb gave off a faint light even when there were no evil auras around, which was a total giveaway.

He took the short way home, practically running through alleys and back streets as he approached his tiny apartment. At one point, Kyrie had wanted them to live together, but Nero had played the money card and said that a bigger place was too expensive. Besides, his place was barely big enough for one person and she still lived with her parents.

There was no way in Hell that Nero was moving in there.

When he reached his front door, he could have sighed in relief. He'd made it through a whole day without seeing Kyrie, and he hadn't been at home to ignore the calls she'd surely made.

However, when his human hand touched the doorhandle, his demon arm began to glow, visible even through the sling he nearly always concealed it with. Nero instinctively dropped into a fighting stance; one of them was inside.

Fuck.

Pulling Red Queen from his back, Nero quietly opened the door. His sword was a little less messy than the gun; having blood and guts everywhere just wasn't funny.

Stepping silently inside the apartment, sword raised before him, the young hunter surveyed the living room-slash-dining room-slash-kitchen. Nothing was out of place. The stench that accompanied evil everywhere just wasn't present…was it possible that his arm was reacting to something completely different?

Still not letting his guard down, Nero crept towards the bedroom. Focusing hard, he began to sense…something. He wasn't sure, but it felt like a demon.

There was still no evil smell, though.

Opening the bedroom door softly, Nero winced when the hinges creaked. If a demon was concealing itself there for some unknown reason, they now knew he was home. Giving up on trying to be stealthy, the white-haired boy stood straight up and shoved the door as far open as it would go.

When he saw the figure lying on his bed, he couldn't help but let out a single laugh.

Dante, the legendary Son of Sparda, was asleep in his bedroom.

"Fucking Hell," Nero muttered to himself, sheathing his sword and walking to the side of his bed. Clenching his possessed hand into a fist, he drove a forceful punch into Dante's hard stomach.

"Wake up, you old bastard!"

To Dante's credit, he rolled off the bed and into a defensive crouch on the floor without missing a beat. The action wasn't needed though, because Nero had no intentions of chasing the man further. He'd made his point.

"Shit, kid, what was that for? I told you I was coming today, so it's not my fault that you weren't here and I got bored. How do you live in this place, without even a decent pizza joint anywhere for about a hundred miles?"

Nero rolled his eyes. "You crazy asshole. Now tell me why we couldn't do this over the phone?"

Dante stood up, cocking his head to the side as he looked the younger man up and down. "Because I missed you so very, very much?"

Another eye roll. "Try again."

"Because I've done all the chicks in my city, so I thought I'd come and get up in your turf? Fresh meat and all?"

This time, Nero let out an exasperated sigh. "Out, old man. I never asked you to rock up, so if you're just gonna be a prick, you may as well head home and be one there."

Laughing, Dante cracked his shoulders and stretched out his arms, stripping off the trench coat he'd accidentally fallen asleep in and placing it on the floor next to his already-discarded weapons.

"Fine, fine. You called just as Lady was starting to tear me a new one over some stupid shit, so I decided to get away from her for a while. I mean, she can't really shoot me to death, but it sure as Hell hurts when she tries."

"I should've guessed."

"Uh-huh, you really should have. Guess you're just not smart enough yet."

Nero scowled. Dante might not be the evil, murderous dickhead that he'd originally seemed to be, but he was certainly still a dickhead. Nero couldn't quite remember why he'd thought calling the older man was a good idea in the first place.

"At least I can stay awake for longer than five minutes at a time. Is the Alzheimer's finally getting to you?"

"Funny, punk, funny. Anyway, I seem to remember someone mentioning something about food…?"

"Got any cash on you?" There was no chance of Nero shouting for Dante's little trip. If the guy was just planning on appearing out of the blue for no good reason, then Nero wasn't about to get stuck with the bill.

"Do I have-…Pfft, what d'you think? Of course I have…alright, I ain't got a lot. Don't look at me like that, you haven't seen Lady in all her money-grabbing glory." Dante's expression was a little sheepish, and the look was actually helped along by the man's sleep-mussed hair and five o'clock shadow.

It wasn't going to work on Nero, though.

"If you wanna eat, you gotta pay. But whatever you want, I'd better go get it for you. I don't think some of the people here are over the sight of you offing Sanctus." It actually wasn't an excuse; some of the more devout residents still firmly believed that their former leader had been murdered in cold blood by 'a sadistic, grinning man in red who laughed as he flung Sanctus' insides around the Opera House.'

…The story had obviously been twisted a little along the way.

"Ugh…well…if I'm not gettin' pizza, then…fuck, just get whatever. Make it good, though." Pulling his ragged wallet from his back pocket, Dante tossed it in Nero's direction. He ignored the apprehensive look that the younger man sent him as he flicked through the wallet's fairly pathetic contents.

"Alright. But don't you even think about getting back into my b-…"

"Quit ya bitching. I need a nap before dinner, so piss off before I shove Rebellion somewhere you really wouldn't like her."

Throwing his hands up in disgust, Nero turned and stomped out of the room. Some people…

"Well, shit. That hit the spot…" Dante pushed his chair back from Nero's tiny dining table, resting a hand across his flat stomach. Nero raised an eyebrow; the man looked like he was ten seconds away from yet another nap.

That definitely wasn't on the cards right now. The younger hunter had barely eaten a thing all night, his insides too jumbled from what he was feeling about Kyrie to allow him to keep much down. Besides, he'd eaten not long before coming home and finding Dante in his bed.

Nero blinked rapidly. That certainly had an odd ring to it.

Shaking his head a little to clear it, the smaller man wondered how best to broach the subject of Kyrie with Dante. Luckily for him, though, the other man beat him to the punch.

"So, kid, what did ya want to know, anyway? You said it was about Kyrie, and I'm guessin' that the only reason you haven't kicked me out yet is because you still wanna talk."

Nero bit his lip and nodded. Thinking about what to say wasn't getting him anywhere; he decided to just open his mouth and let the words flow.

"I…I love Kyrie, I really do. I'd kill the Saviour all over again to protect her. But…she wants more, and I don't know if I can give it to her."

Dante's lip twitched, as if he was about to make some sort of smart comment. When he looked directly into Nero's eyes, though, his face immediately lost all trace of the prankster nature that was normally always there.

He was finally beginning to recognise the seriousness of the conversation.

"Wants more as in…how? Sex? Living together? Or, God forbid, marriage?"

…That wasn't reassuring in the least. Nero swallowed hard, licking his suddenly dry lips. "She keeps…dropping hints about weddings, and brides, and getting engaged."

There was silence as Dante's ice blue eyes bored into Nero's, the older man clearly trying to fill in the gaps. Eventually, he pulled his chair back towards the table and sat up straight.

"You're not in love with her, are you."

Nero felt ashamed to finally hear it out loud. Dropping his eyes to the cheap, cracking surface of the table, he nodded a little. "It's going to break her heart when she finds out, but…it's too much like she's my sister. And there's something in my head that's telling me to go find someone I feel passionate about…something that feels like it's getting stronger every day."

Nero's head snapped up when his sharp hearing caught Dante's quick intake of breath.

"When did you start feelin' that, kid?"

"I dunno…I guess it would've been not long after all that shit with Sanctus and the Saviour."

Nero couldn't understand the way Dante's features crinkled in thought, the man tapping a finger against the table as he clearly ran something through his mind. Why did it matter how long he'd felt like this? The point was that he did feel this way, wasn't it?

"So what you're saying is…your mind is telling you to find someone you're in love with, 'cause that person sure as Hell ain't Kyrie. And this started happening right around the time your demon powers got a shitload stronger?"

Nero's confusion at this whole situation boiled over into frustration, and he couldn't help but snap a little. "Yes! That's exactly what I just fucking said. Now, are you going to help me sort this shit out, or are you just going to repeat me like some sad-sack little parrot?"

Dante didn't seem perturbed by the younger man's little outburst. Rather, he finally smiled once more. "Sheesh, kid, no need to bleed all over me. Then again, I had some pretty wicked mood swings…"

Nero wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that the last line was more for Dante's sake than his own. He ignored the initial insult, and just ran with the second part of Dante's musing.

"Mood swings? What are you on about, old man?" He had a sinking feeling about this…

"Lemme tell you a little something about demons, Nero. In the same way that humans want to get married, demons feel the urge to find a mate and fuck 'em senseless. Some of 'em would rather have a new partner every night, and some find one other demon and the pair go off having violent, monogamous demon sex together for the rest of their shitty lives."

Nero scowled; his frustration wasn't going away as quickly as it should have been. "And this is relevant how, you senile idiot?"

"Kid, you need to respect your elders. I can kick your ass, remember. It's relevant 'cause a' that thing." Dante lifted his right arm, tapping at his wrist with his left index finger.

There was silence, and then: "Oh…fuck…"

"Yep. You're basically hitting puberty all over again." Dante laughed, ignoring the way that Nero's face and body language were screaming murderous intentions. He knew what Nero was going through; not because of the girlfriend, but because of the urge to find a mate.

He wondered how Nero was going to handle the sensations…would he go about it the same way Dante did, by screwing as many humans as he could get his hands on while knowing that there was no chance of finding a mate among them?

Or would he reject his demon side, and settle into an unsatisfying, pathetic charade of a life with Kyrie, who would never be able to quench the need?

"So what you're saying is…this frigging arm and the demonic shit that comes with it is gonna make it impossible for me to settle down with anyone other than…a soulmate?"

Dante couldn't help it; he laughed. "I never really thought about demons having soulmates…but that's one way of putting it, I guess. You're basically right, though, and that's why you're not in love with good ol' Kyrie. Sorry t'say it, but I'll tell you from experience: there'll always be a part of you that'll wanna find the right mate."

Nero really wasn't sure if the explanation made him feel better or worse. On one hand, he wasn't just an insensitive prick who didn't know how to treat his girlfriend.

But on the other hand…he was an insensitive prick who had led a poor, innocent girl on for far too long, when he didn't really want her.

"Let me see if I gotcha correctly…all I have to do is find my mate, and I'll be ridiculously happy for the rest of my life?" Nero knew he was oversimplifying; but he still wasn't prepared for the fit of laughter that Dante suddenly broke out into, the man slapping his palm on the table as he cracked up.

Finally, the older man calmed down enough to speak. "You…shit, kid, you make it sound so freakin' easy. But there's a teeny little issue for guys like us. We can't mate with humans, because our demon side will only go for other demons. But we can't mate with demons 'cause they'll more than likely try to rip your head off once they come. That's just what they do when they smell human blood, and if they no longer feel an immediate urge to fuck the brains outta your demon side, well, look out."

The table barely withstood the force of Nero's human fist slamming down on it; luckily, he'd remembered to keep his demon arm in his lap. "So I'll feel like this no matter who I try to be with? For fuck's sake…"

"Nope. You just gotta find yourself another human-demon hybrid. But, ah…easier said than done, kid. I only know three of 'em."

Nero's eyes narrowed as he looked across at the older hunter. "I'm guessing that one's you, and one's me. Please tell me that number three is a woman, at the very least?"

This time, at least, Dante managed to mostly contain his laughter. "You reckon that I'd be here with you if I could be mating with some smokin' babe? Shit, no. Number three is my brother, remember, and he's kind of a dick mostly, so…"

"You'd better not be suggesting what I think you're suggesting, you old pervert."

Dante's smirk dropped, but only for a fraction of a second. Leaning his elbow on the table, he put his chin on his palm and leant towards Nero.

"Sorry, kid, but I like my men a lot more ripped than you. Can't blame ya for wanting, though, 'cause really…" With his free hand, the hunter gestured up and down his body.

Nero didn't reply; he was too busy trying to figure out if Dante was just teasing him about the 'men' part or not. And then, when he'd decided that the older man's words really didn't matter, the gravity of his situation had come flooding back.

If Dante was right- which, Nero reluctantly admitted, he usually was- then he was never going to be happy with Kyrie, no matter how hard he tried. Finally admitting defeat, Nero slumped over the table with his head pillowed on his arms.

His words came out a little muffled, but Dante's demonic hearing meant that he could still understand them. "I can't break up with her…but I have to…don't I?"

Still smirking, Dante reached over to playfully ruffle the younger man's messy white hair. "You gotta do what you gotta do, kid. Just follow your heart and all that clichéd shit. Like, right now, I'm about to follow my heart and go to bed; all your dramatics tired me out."

It was as if someone had flicked a switch in Nero's brain, and the smaller man leapt up from his seat. "I'm guessing that your freeloading ass is staying here, 'cause you definitely didn't have enough to spring for the inn. But you get the couch: the bed's mine, and I ain't letting you in there after that comment about men."

"Now there's the pissy bastard I know! Looks like my work here is done, so I'll split tomorrow. Besides, I sat on your couch earlier. If I slept there for more than one night, I'd probably break my spine."

"Well, you gotta look after yourself, what with the old, falling apart bones and all."

"Hardy-fuckin'-har-har. Just lemme grab my babies from your room, and I'll let that comment slide."

Nero wasn't about to fall for that one. Crossing his arms, he shook his head at the taller man. "Oh, Hell no. I let you in there and you'll just end up in my bed again. I'll get your shit for you."

Turning towards the apartment's only bedroom, Nero let out a little yawn. Once Dante left, he'd be able to have a proper think about Kyrie. But that could wait until tomorrow; he was stuffed.

Throwing the older man's coat and weapons into the main room, Nero yawned out a quiet 'goodnight' before practically falling into bed. He didn't bother waiting for a response from Dante; the man was probably already asleep.

As he slipped into his bed, an odd scent assaulted his nose, making him freeze. What the Hell was that smell…and why was it in his bed…?

When the answer hit him, Nero almost got back out of bed just to kick Dante's ass. If the smell of Dante's demon side on his sheets, combined with the fact that having a half-demon so near was still making his arm pulse, kept him up then there was going to be Hell to pay in the morning,

Nero woke with a gasp, his body covered in sweat and his breath coming faster than usual. It was a dream…just a dream…

Too bad he couldn't remember what the dream had been in the first place. All he knew was that…nope, it had all left him now. Well, except for the slight hard-on he could feel. That definitely hadn't left him.

Shit, it wasn't good for this kind of crap to be going on with Dante in the next room. Hopefully he hadn't said anything out loud…

Trying to swallow, Nero found that his throat was incredibly dry. Groping on the floor beside his bed, the boy tried to locate his water bottle…only to find that it was empty. Grumbling a little, he pulled himself from the sheets, not caring about the fact that he was just in his boxers as he walked into the kitchen area.

Grabbing a not-so-dirty glass from a high shelf, Nero turned towards the sink…and froze.

The moonlight was streaming in through the curtain-less windows of the front room, sending silver patches of light around the place. Nero could honestly say he'd never noticed just how well the moon highlighted his couch until…well…until he saw Dante, shirtless but still clad in his red leather pants, stretched out along the cushions with his legs hanging off the edge, all illuminated perfectly by the natural light.

Nero had thought that he had a great torso…he could honestly say that he had nothing on the older demon hunter.

The moonlight seemed to play perfectly over the man's skin, all the way from toned-yet-flat pectorals down to where Dante's hips tilted inwards in a 'V' shape, dipping into his dangerously low pants…

Nero was suddenly aware of just how dry his lips and throat were. Water…he'd come out for water…

Quickly filling the glass, Nero practically ran back to the bedroom, making sure that he didn't look back towards the couch. His mind was fucking with him. That was it. Hell, this had probably all been a dream. Yeah. None of that had actually happened.

It just couldn't be possible to have abs like that, after all.